


A Small Act of Rebellion

by ChloShow



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloShow/pseuds/ChloShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where is Tyrell?  </p><p>This work picks up at the end of 1x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Act of Rebellion

The chaos unfolded before him across his desktop: riots, economic distress, a rising tidal wave of suicides, hacker copycats.  
_Was the new fsociety video fake? Of course he could've filmed it without his own knowledge and set it to premiere with a timer, but all the other possible scenarios were equally likely at this point.  
_ The video ran mute on a loop, information from around the globe flooding his neural circuits, threatening to overload them when a quick _tap, tap, tap_ on his door caught him from delving into a downward spiral.

Another succession of taps sounded before Elliot could react to the first set, and yet another, even angrier series of taps followed right before Elliot could turn the knob and stare blankly at his annoyed guest.

"What took you so long? We need to go. You said exactly midnight, remember?" Tyrell was dressed all in black, his attempt at looking casual no doubt, but the confidence/arrogance that came with his type of wealth still emanated from him like a neon sign at a carnival.

 "Where are we going?" Elliot mumbled. _His circuits were frying now. Not long until Mr. Robot would show up._  
_The Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll._  
_How did that story end again?_

'Where are we going?' Tyrell echoed nonverbally with certainly not the most accepting face he'd ever seen. Tyrell wasn't going to answer. He expected some sort of explanation, but Elliot couldn't think of one that didn't involve having a whole host of alternate personalities. So he decided on just repeating the question.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

At this, Tyrell slipped past Elliot into the apartment. Elliot closed the door and fastened every lock for good measure. Tyrell, back turned to Elliot, inspected the monitors, the worldwide chaos reflected in his eyes.

Elliot found some sort of footing, voicing his concerns about his partner's disappearance, "I've been looking for you all day. I thought I might have..." _Killed you?_ Even Elliot knew completing that sentence would be a _faux pas_. With that, Tyrell let loose a sour laugh. At what? At Elliot? Was this a trap?

Tyrell turned to face Elliot, bearing down on him in a move that read more as desperation than intimidation.  
"What the hell is going on with you, Elliot? Need I remind you what is at stake here?  You act as though you're two completely different people! 'Where are we going?' If this is a joke, it is in poor fucking taste."

This last insult ended with Elliot's back bumping into the kitchen counter, Tyrell's rage-filled eyes threatened something but simmered down in a rare display of restraint. A tender hand reached up towards Elliot's face, cupping his cheek, "You know what I've risked in following you, and I wouldn't have done so if I didn't possess the utmost faith in your vision."

Elliot gawked up at Tyrell's admiring eyes and experienced a sensation akin to the soul leaving one's body. All at once he was across the room, in spirit at least. He saw Tyrell intimately close to himself, and his body acted of its own accord.

"That faith will be rewarded in time," Elliot's corporeal hand reached up to grasp the hand on his face, and with a blink, he was no longer there wedged between Tyrell and the countertop.  There stood his dad, Edward, Mr. Robot, pick a name, any name. Mr. Robot removed Tyrell's hand from his face and placed it on Tyrell's chest in what seemed a genuine display of affection, that is until his dad gripped Tyrell's jaw with uncomfortable force, bringing their foreheads together.

 

 _Tyrell had to remember who was in charge. He couldn't strangle the creator of this new apocalyptic world in a frenzy like he had with Sharon. Who was Sharon? How did he know that name?_ The thought rang through Elliot's mind, his usual running commentary, but what surprised him was when nearly the exact same words came out of Mr. Robot's mouth.

"We gotta work on those anger issues, Tyrell. Don't want your fearless leader ending up strangled on the rooftop of some building. Where would you be then?" Elliot tried to get closer to the confrontation, inching his way across the living room to discover Tyrell wasn't afraid. No, he was breathless, enraptured, maybe even hard. _What the fuck happened over the weekend?_

The tense moment ended as Mr. Robot released Tyrell's jaw, guiding him out of his breathing space.  
"Come on. We've got work to do."

 

 _Was it just him or had Mr. Robot not acknowledged Elliot’s presence whatsoever?  
_ Elliot couldn't seem to keep anything from him, but now he had this...this small act of internal rebellion. He tried to follow as Tyrell and his alter disappeared from the apartment, but a small boy caught his attention, his younger self frightened at what he had just witnessed.

Present Elliot felt the boy’s loyalties were torn, but something else struck him.  From what he remembered, he'd only ever seen his younger self appear along with his mother. Words tumbled out of his mouth (or from one part of his brain to another, what did it matter, language hadn't evolved to describe a situation like this).

"You don’t have to tell them. Don't tell mom. Don't tell dad. You don't have to say anything. Trust me, friend," Elliot may have (for the most part) escaped the horrors of his childhood by growing up, but a part of him,  _this_ part of him, was stuck reliving it.

 

"You won't hurt me if I do, will you?"

It was a test.  It was most definitely a test.

"No, I promise I won't hurt you," he knew what he had to say even if he was unsure if he could make good on the promise later, but there was no way he could let the others find out about him eavesdropping.

Tension eased out of the boy’s shoulders at Elliot’s response, but he was still upset. Visions of what his parental alters would do if they found out about his betrayal flashed before him, imaginary pain but pain nonetheless. The boy sulked over to the mattress in the corner.  Life seemed to drain from young Elliot's limbs, and before he knew it, unconsciousness overtook his small self.

Elliot was unsure about everything he'd just witnessed, but he didn't have long to reflect on the situation as an uncontrollably heavy feeling washed over his current self. He didn’t possess the strength to carry on this internal rebellion, but he couldn’t be too disheartened. Drastic change didn’t happen over night.

He sunk to his knees, embracing the mental novocaine and slipping into a welcome sleep.


End file.
